


Steady

by aderyn



Series: Two Hills [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: and still here, five coffees;shotgunned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:28:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve never said my name before,” she says.<br/>That  was before she made sure that Sherlock wouldn’t  spend the rest of his days in a feedback loop of madness ….</p>
<p>John’s there, hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, two degrees warmer than usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steady

**Author's Note:**

> For Natalie and stitchingatthecircuitboard!

_Are you calling me a superhero?—Beatrix Kiddo_

“Sally,” he says.

“You’ve never said my name before,” she says, glances at her boots.

He’s never deduced her before either, for any purpose other than war or humiliation. He’s never been interested in her, not really, only as obstacle, an adversary, occasionally a whip-lick of amusement (which Anderson is not.)  But now, just now.  Sally Donovan has saved John Watson’s life. He’d deny it if he could.

( _Surprising lack of fear, pupils stable, five recent coffees , no sugar, shotgunned,  shocking lack of shock, ring-- green stone, surprised to recall that-- taken off recently, broken engagement, never loved him, not really, not the way she love-hates Anderson, new-ish shirt, Tour de France King of the Mountains dots only much smaller, didn’t expect to get dirty today, to get bloody, wiped her mouth on the back of a steady hand, praised recently by Lestrade; recently, but before the incident, before she  kept John --wary but sleep-deprived, three days of  legwork and impending cold--from dying, before she did that, took down a shadow with an HP and the shakes(bit of a spak, that one, she might have said), before she made sure that Sherlock wouldn’t  spend the rest of his days in a feedback loop of madness  and cases and madness  with no tendency towards equilibrium and tearing out his deep-rooted  hairs, the telomeres  shrinking and the weak genes coming online and never wanting  to look at himself and imploding before 40 and maybe, if he’s lucky, living, mercilessly sharp, lacerated. Sally._ )

John’s next to him, smiling, hand through the hair ( a little abashed), warm, hand on Sherlock’s back now, coughing, two degrees warmer than usual, brows up (all right?), shaking Sally’s hand, _(colleague_ ), taking her hands (thank you).  Close one, John says.  He’s not that shaken; he’s been shot at before, been shot in fact, come close to dying; of course he has.  Here he is, coughing, alive, Lestrade tapping him between the scapulae.  

Suspect’s carted away with prejudice.

John’s there, hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.

Sally’s there, steady in her boots.

Sherlock says her name.


End file.
